


Saints

by KyeAbove



Series: The Reinforcement Of Agony AU [54]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, Past Character Death, Two-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove
Summary: August 13th, 1934. Cade Vale, New York. Agony:ConsumingHow far would Joey Drew go? Wally wished he could stop asking that question.





	1. Wally

~August 13th, 1934~

* * *

 

The room was covered in ink. That wasn’t anything new. With how long and how much Joey ran that Ink Machine, the pipes were always bursting. It was Wally’s job to clean up as much as he could before Mister Connor would come in and repair or replace the pipes.

Wally stepped in the room, mop in hand, along with everything he’d need to clean this room. A bucket of water, acetone in his tool belt, an off-white rag, and his own two hands. If he had anything more, he would be grateful.

The room was covered in blood. This wasn’t anything new either. Wally always told himself that the blood was animal, part of Joey’s sick game, even if that was just as bad. Wally still had faith in Joey.

Joey wouldn’t kill another human being.

People disappeared because they were safe at home, unable to put up with Joey’s declining state of mind. Or they’d run off for other reasons. Just because Wally couldn’t contact Norman, it didn’t mean…

Wally missed Norman. Every since Henry left, Wally had been lonely, even in the company of others. Norman seemed to know who was truly lonely, and sought them out.

Norman had brought Wally coffee, and talked to him about any sort of thing Wally wanted to talk about. Wally had been over for dinner at the Polk household several times. Norman had taught him how to ride a bicycle, and just made a good friend day to day. Wally might have even eventually worked up the courage to call him Dad.

Even though Wally was sure the blood was animal, he hoped that this blood wasn’t from Norman. That Joey hadn’t been holding him captive somewhere, and this had been his badly ended escape.

It took multiple trips, dumping buckets of ink and blood, and his knees were bruised from how hard he had to scrub the floor. It had to be perfect. Joey had said the room had to look presentable. Wally was good at cleaning up blood. 

Soon, the room was no longer covered in ink and blood. Wally placed his bucket under the still dripping pipe. Mister Connor had rerouted the ink elsewhere, putting more strain on the other pipes, but stopping the leak here. Wally’s job wouldn’t be done until the final bucket of ink had been dumped, but for now he could leave.

The studio was so dreary now. With all the disappearances, the frowners, the unfinished animations, and Joey’s ever growing madness, it wasn’t the place Wally had fallen in love with. It was missing so much. It was missing the life it once had.

All because one man had died. It wasn’t fair.

Nothing in life was fair. Wally had learned that as a child, but the lesson never stopped happening.

There wasn’t much for Wally to do for now, so, guided by his heart, he set off for the projector booth. Maybe he could find peace there, even if it was temporary and fake.

Tears welled in his eyes as he walked, and Wally ’s heart felt heavy, with an accompanying sinking feeling. Wally knew he had to get out of this mess, before he got too deep. Before his hope in Joey’s innocence faded. Wally wanted to find Norman, know he was safe, alive.

Wally paused at the first step to the projector booth. The projector was running, it’s familiar wirl, drifting down the stairs. The orchestra wasn’t practicing or recording. Someone was up there alone.

Someone!

Hope settled into Wally's body, and he raced up the stairs, pleading with any higher power that it was…!

The projector Wally was thinking of wasn’t running. Instead, the sound and now light was coming from the projector placed on a too humanoid body. The projector clicked and cast a glow onto the room below, and the body below it shuffled, and crunched from all the items that were a part of it . Shaking fingers tried putting a new film reel into the silent projector.

Wally screamed bloody murder, and ran.

The Projectionist gave chase.


	2. Norman

Norman hated all this. Hated his mutilated and destroyed body. Hated Joey Drew for making him like this.

Hated that he was so terrifying that Wally took one look at him and ran.

Norman’s body ripped apart and put itself back together with every step, and everything hurt. Norman knew he should stop running, because it was only hurting him, and scaring Wally. But he had to warn the boy, before it was too late.

He couldn’t let Mister Drew get to Wally. Norman didn’t want the boy to suffer as he was. So he _had_ to warn him. But his speaker was faulty. Norman was unconfident using it, _because he didn't want to be like this!_

Not too far ahead, Wally was gasping and whimpering, already out of breath, but he was still running. After following him up a flight of stairs, Norman realized where Wally might be going. He could be taking his own advice and getting out of here.

Norman knew this might not be ideal, but if Wally left and stayed away, he’d be saved. He’d be without answers, maybe even feel guilty if everyone else disappeared in Joey’s mad plan, but on the outside, he would be safe.

So, Norman pressed on, ran faster, so Wally would be more inclined for the exit, and the boy did run for it, Norman not far behind him. Freedom for Wally was just a door away. But it seemed Mister Drew had planned ahead.  

Norman watched, helpless, as the recently installed trap door in front of the exit gave out when Wally stepped on it, sending Wally downwards.

 _“Wally!”_ Norman screeched, sound breaking through the unreliable speaker. As the boy disappeared from sight.

Norman finally found him. Found Wally, sprawled on the wooden floor, bleeding from a head wound, _gone._


End file.
